There is a light
no night can extinguish—
a still, inviolate flame
woven into the hush
between your heartbeats.

It does not cry for witness.
It does not rise in thunder.
It simply remains—
soft as breath,
certain as sky.

When the dawn delays,
when the hours fall heavy
and the world forgets its gentleness,
this light does not waver.
It does not ask to be seen.
It is.

You may not sense its warmth
when silence deepens,
when grief weighs against your chest.
Yet still, it endures—
a quiet radiance
beneath the ruin of things.

You are not merely held by light.
You are its vessel—
its harbor,
its home.

Even when you vanish
from your own believing,
even then—
you shine.

For the light,
infinite and undemanding,
lives
in
you.